I have sworn to be the guide of the love hidden in people's nature

I knit my destiny from the fire of my dreams and the rest of my idle feelings is beyond imagination.

I'm kind of a season.

I am my love and its compass, unknown, sometimes I add stalactites to love, sometimes the stalagmite is the season, maybe your heart.

My words broke from the hook of my heart, but it was not enough.

Whatever I know.

I know how to take the Throne.

I know love.

And my poems and words while my soul is infused...

Out of the blue is my skin and my trembling is noble:

Sometimes I am remembered, sometimes I know well, and I go back and forth between my loneliness and the crowd.

If the minefield is the world, I am content with yesterday to fall as a martyr: I wish I was able to take sides with my ancestors before the enemies.

Let me stay alone.

Since we fell for the love of this country...

I would give my life without thinking, just like all our valiants.

The counterfeit of love is sometimes some people.

Are the doubts heavy?

What difference does it make that a person walks only after he knows himself and only to his Lord.

While an increased tariff is perhaps love and consumption tax at work, is it possible to be exhausted while wishing to love and be loved?

Bless my day.

I wish to all my loved ones…

Sometimes I'm a painter.

Sometimes a hundred eyes with my tailor rips.

Sometimes poetry falls and I knit from the past and the crumbs of yesterday, I knit my life and all my poems.

The heart is praising.

It signifies gratitude closer than my jugular vein.

My brain didn't have a dressing, but I finally managed to be a milk port with the pain of rubbing.

What do we know?

Is it unknown or that I was chasing and chasing after me…

Thousands of syllables that come after me, I sing the song of my homeland of paradise, regardless of all kinds of people and betrayal, we emerge one by one from the trench we lie in.

Sirens sounding?

Is the face very familiar, what the callers...

The North Star and many more that wink.

Sometimes vainly added.

Sometimes overflowing from couplets.

I am well aware that I am being tested and I am far from death. Whereas I have sworn to be the guide of the love hidden in their nature, I have sworn to be the guide of the love hidden in their nature, and I have made myself even closer to myself with my painstaking and meticulous temperament.

A rhythm disorder, sometimes life, sometimes inaudible frequency.

What is implausible?

the real one?

Of course, our holy power of faith and the life and breath that the Lord has given us, and the struggle with our souls means that I am on the right path.

I slept the days and came.

By silencing the angry and grouchy child in me…

But in any case, I will also speak, I will be silent, I will bear patience, I will bear the burden: I took the heaviest pain, escaped from the moment, wandered in time, and here I came to myself and finally found myself, how I loved myself.

Altitudes and figures flying.

Mine was a painful birth and it was born before the morning, my best wishes, and the wind and smoking smoke in my soul from my heart, while I have set my head on this road with an emotion, love and hope above everything else that has been destroyed...

Sometimes my inner voice is wrong.

Maybe I am the surrealist pen of many tales that I am the protagonist of while I am the narrator of many stories in which I can be poetry in the captivity of many prose.

I did not bleed like everyone else.

I did not deceive anyone.

But I bled a lot, and I hope to get out of the syllables I mixed and to have a life with bleeding on the road...

I'm longing for.

I've never been envious.

I praise.

A universe where I can love like crazy without thinking about what anyone will say, many people, mostly the oppressed, and finally, I turn to myself with the directive of the pen...

It turns out that the fine adjustment of love is to love yourself…

Actually, before I was happy with myself.

One step further from myself that I was cold…

After all, with the defeat of a lifetime and leaving everything unfinished while I was burdened with myself.

I'm renewing, but write to the summer.

I was purified from that deep-seated sadness hidden inside me.

My front is not ambiguous and my beautiful Lord, thank you for the innocence and love in me while I was still alive and well, and I gladly relieved my loneliness; write write...

I am content with my destiny and I am full of gratitude.

Since I was so unhappy that I didn't write, in my previous life.

My pen and hole pocket are with me, and I insistently pour out words on the way I walk, many emotions come after me, and here is the picture I drew, the sketch of hope.

That gigantic painting, when I was just a tiny speck, I carry it before and here, both from the picture and from the words...

With my color.

With my stance.

Sometimes I shake hands with myself thanks to such caring people who are busy with that gigantic emptiness and all kinds of emotions that I fill with my bad temper and hit the void.

I carry it out of my body and step by step closer to the peace that I have overcome.

What is hunger?

Is it tough?

I've been full since yesterday, so my hunger for a lifetime can never prevent my enthusiasm and my body, which means that I've missed some troubles, and my soul is filled with love and hope, and my heart is winged like a bird; While I am too enthusiastic and hopeful, this story does not end easily either...